


Dust

by FlameEmber



Series: Ishimondo Drabbles [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, M/M, pretty sad too tbh, spoilers obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3803632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameEmber/pseuds/FlameEmber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiyotaka's last few moments, spent bleeding out cold and friendless on the storeroom floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dust

The dust on the floor tickles his nose severely.

Bleeding out on the floor all alone, pink fluid seeping out from and surrounding his head like a ghastly halo, Kiyotaka takes in a shuddering gasp, pain resonating within his cracked and shattered skull as he fights for breath, although he knows his chances for survival are _literally _hopeless.__

His vision begins to go blurry, and he struggles to stay awake, even though his eyelids are becoming _so heavy... ___

Despite the amount of sadness and torment he has experienced since being trapped in the killing game, and more specifically since Mondo's death, he doesn't want to die here. Not here, _cold _and_ shivering_ on the floor of the storeroom and absolutely _alone, _with nobody to even mourn his passing. He lets out a choked sob, pupils widening as the throbbing in his skull increases. The back of his head feels sticky, and he wonders how much longer death will take. He certainly never would have imagined he would still be alive at this point - especially seeing as Fujisaki had died instantly. Perhaps Yamada's blow was not as hard as first anticipated.__

His head hurts so badly, and he wants nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep. Limbs trembling slightly, he begins to feel colder, skin of his forearms and hands prickling in sharp goosebumps. How long has it been since the blow? A minute? An hour? Everything hurts, and succumbing sounds like the best thing in the world right now. But he wants to live - _he doesn't want to die here, not alone _\- not when the world will remain utterly indifferent._ What happened_, he thinks, to his _dreams? _His_ goals?_ Squelched, he supposes, just like his own head. The thought nauseates him, and he feels as if he could throw up. If only he had the energy to move.

His fingers scrabble uselessly on the slick floor, soon becoming sticky and stained with his own blood. 

His body spasms in a last shiver, crimson eyes staring blankly as the life fades from the disciplinarian's features. 

_Mondo... I miss you... I love you... _he whispers, gulping thickly with his last trace of physical energy.__

Kiyotaka finally lets his pained ruby eyes slide shut, tiny tear escaping and trickling to the cold floor. In his last few seconds of consciousness before slipping away, the hall monitor sadly conjures up a final image of a certain biker. 

_Oi. ___

Funny, that voice's reaction on him... he'd never forgotten it. It had rung in his ears throughout every moment of every sleepless night and mournful day.

_Come on. What the fuck are ya waitin' for? ___

Through his muddled and pain riddled mind, Kiyotaka begins to block the voice out. He knows this is just his imagination playing tricks on him, his brain's cruel attempt to make him believe his Kyoudai is really there. 

So he stops thinking, lets his muscles relax one last time, and allows himself to slip out of consciousness, blood finally beginning to dry as it lies in thick streaks beneath his head, congealing in his raven black hair. 

Nobody will care, anyway.


End file.
